


Filling in the Spaces

by tatoeba



Series: domestic!fanxing verse [1]
Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Domestic, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, M/M, Moving In Together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-07
Updated: 2013-01-07
Packaged: 2018-10-19 10:53:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10638375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tatoeba/pseuds/tatoeba
Summary: Yifan starts to notice the way Yixing fills up the spaces in his apartment just like the way he filled up his heart.





	

**Author's Note:**

> for the "already moved in without noticing" square on fluff_bingo. I basically wrote this all in one sitting ~~while I was at work oops~~ because I’ve been craving some cute domestic fanxing and this was like wordvomit. Hope you like~ ♥

At first it’s just little things, Yixing leaving his wallet at Yifan’s apartment only to call him at six in the morning from his own asking if it’s there and if Yifan wouldn’t mind bringing it by when they meet up for lunch later in the day. Or it’s Yixing’s favorite sweatshirt with a silly looking hand-stitched unicorn on the back that finds its way into Yifan’s hamper midweek. It’s Yixing’s guitar that gets placed in the corner of his living area because Yixing always tells him that his apartment, much more spacious and open with the stunning city views, is infinitely more inspiring than his own, so he lugs his guitar over to play there instead, and the quiet, soft strains start to greet Yifan when he returns from his shift at the hospital more days than not.

It’s Yixing’s pair of maroon jeans that he finds folded in alongside his own. It’s Yixing’s black beanie hanging off a hook in the hallway where Yifan usually leaves his keys. It’s a stack of papers that Yixing has to grade for his classes spread out on the coffee table. Yixing’s purple headphones tucked into the notch of his own phone. Yixing’s little stuffed rabbit sitting in the corner of the couch when Yifan watches television. Yixing’s shoes in the hall closet, Yixing’s favorite drink in the refrigerator, Yixing’s Macbook on the kitchen counter.

From the moment they met back when Yifan was an awkwardly tall, long-limbed teenager and Yixing was bright-eyed with an irrepressible smile, Yifan has always been aware of the little ways that Yixing has seeped into his life. Text messages nearly every hour, squiggly little doodles in the corners of Yifan’s notes when they studied together, Yixing’s favorite songs filling up his iPod. Thirteen years of friendship easily shifted into two years of romance and he’s been with Yixing for fifteen years, and he should be used to the way that Yixing fills up every nook and cranny of his world.

He’s thought about it before, many times, really, about asking Yixing to just move in with him. He likes waking up to Yixing beside him, soft brown hair splayed against the white sheets. He likes pressing Yixing up against the shower wall and kissing him until he’s breathless. He likes curling his fingers into Yixing’s as he ride the elevator down to the first floor, and he likes waving him goodbye before they head off in different directions to their jobs in the morning. He likes Yixing texting him to ask what he wants for dinner. He likes Yixing telling him he’ll stop by the grocery to pick up milk because they’re out. He likes that Yixing acts like it’s already their place, together, even when it’s not. He likes coming home from a tough night to Yixing’s harmonious voice singing his favorite TVXQ song as he’s cooking in the kitchen. He likes sneaking up behind him and pressing a kiss to the nape of his neck, laughing when Yixing jumps and swats at him with a spatula.

Yifan likes the idea of living together, of having Yixing everywhere he can. It’s been two years since Yixing had cornered him in his own kitchen, shoving him up against the refrigerator and leaning up on his tiptoes to kiss him. Two years since Yixing grinned at him afterwards, eyes sparkling in mischief as he said, “I’ve been wanting to do that for a long time,” so easily like he just woke up that morning and decided that _yes, today is the day_ , and went through with it. Two years since Yifan had pulled him back for kiss after kiss after kiss because this is exactly what he’d been waiting for, maybe ever since they day that they had met.

The problem now is that he’s not quite sure how to ask him. It should be easy, he thinks, because pretty much everything about his relationship with Yixing is easy, but this somehow isn’t. It’s the next big step, he figures, and Yifan’s always been a little nervous about change. Except this is a change he really, really wants, because he doesn’t think there’s anything else that he would like more than Yixing completely moving in with him, instead of just kind-of-sort-of living here like he has for nearly the past year.

His large apartment feels so much more cozy and warm and inviting with Yixing’s panda slippers in the doorway and Yixing’s blue toothbrush in the cup beside the sink, and Yixing’s favorite necklace lying out on the dresser. It’s almost like Yixing lives there already, his side of Yifan’s bed ruffled and unkempt, his clothes starting to take over half of Yifan’s closet, but there are still nights when Yixing goes back to his own apartment and Yifan doesn’t wake up with him beside him, and those mornings somehow end up being the hardest.

It’s a whole week that he ponders over and over about how to ask Yixing to move in with him. A week of Yixing calling him at random points in the day to ask if he’d left his glasses or his favorite shoes or even his own keys back at Yifan’s place, and Yifan is starting to think that, maybe, it really is time to ask him.

He comes home from a late shift at the hospital on a Wednesday night to find Yixing already there, sitting on the couch and watching an old drama rerun on TV. He’s wrapped up in one of his own blankets, a rather hideous plaid thing that Yifan wouldn’t mind if Yixing left at his own place, and he’s clutching his stuffed rabbit to his chest when Yifan walks in. He turns quickly to greet him, adorable dimple pressed in his cheek, and Yifan leans over the back of the couch to kiss him slowly.

“Welcome home,” Yixing says and, god, Yifan really, _really_ likes the sound of that. “There’s some leftovers in the fridge if you want it. Or did you manage to eat at the hospital?”

Yifan shakes his head, and Yixing’s eyes grow worried. He scrambles off the couch and into the kitchen, opening up the refrigerator and pulling out tupperware. “I know you’re busy and all, but you have to find _some_ time to eat,” he says disapprovingly. Yifan watches as he grabs dishes from the cupboards, half of them Yixing’s own that somehow, when Yifan wasn’t looking, ended up in his apartment. He hasn’t been to Yixing’s apartment in a very long time and he wonders vaguely what’s even left over there.

He half-listens to Yixing chide him about properly eating, eyes scanning the kitchen and taking in the owl clock that Yixing had hung over the sink, claiming that Yifan’s kitchen was way too boring without it, the post-its on the fridge with Yixing’s clear handwriting, notes about buying detergent, about the party at Chanyeol’s the next weekend, about a student’s concert on the 20th of the month at the university where Yixing teaches. Yifan smiles softly to himself and pushes himself off from where he’s leaning against the counter and walks over to Yixing who is staring insistently at the microwave as if that will make it run faster.

He wraps his arms around his waist and leans into him and Yixing makes a soft noise of surprise but chuckles, holding onto Yifan’s hands and craning his neck around slightly to look at him curiously.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, and Yifan takes a deep breath, knowing if he doesn’t just say it now, then he probably never will.

“Move in with me?” he says, sounding far too hopeful for his own liking, but he steps back a little to let Yixing turn around and look at him, eyes big in surprise. The microwave dings behind them, but they both ignore it.

Then Yixing laughs, the bright sound ringing throughout the kitchen, and Yifan stares at him blankly, not entirely sure what’s so funny, but a smile tugs at his lips as he watches the beautiful expression on Yixing’s face.

“Idiot,” Yixing says eventually, when his mirth has died down, and he turns around to push the button on the microwave and take out the plate of leftovers. “I kind of already thought I had.”

“What,” Yifan says, blinking, and Yixing grins at him.

“Well, half of my stuff is already here,” Yixing says, gesturing around the kitchen. “And I’m here whenever you get home, and we leave for work together, and I come here when I’m done almost everyday instead of going back to my own place.”

“But sometimes you do,” Yifan points out, stepping up to him until Yixing is pushed up against the counter. “Sometimes you go back to your own place and you’re not here in the morning and I--”

“You want me to be?” Yixing asks, smiling as he reaches out to curl his fingers into Yifan’s shift, thumbs sliding over the buttons.

“Yes,” Yifan admits, feeling his face flush a little at the confession. “I would like that a lot.”

“Me, too,” Yixing says, and he yanks Yifan down into a kiss by his tie. “You’re really slow, though. I was hoping you’d have asked me like months ago,” he says between kisses.

“You could’ve brought it up yourself, stupid,” Yifan grumbles, hands finding Yixing’s waist and pulling him closer, pushing a knee between his thighs.

“It’s _your_ place, though,” Yixing points out, his voice a little breathless. He pushes Yifan away and steps around him, then hands him the plate of food. “Here,” he says. “Eat.”

“I’m not really hungry for food anymore,” Yifan says, staring straight at Yixing, who blinks for a moment and then pulls a face.

“You’re gross,” he says, flicking him in the forehead. “I’m already rethinking this moving in business.”

Yifan laughs, setting the plate back onto the counter and following Yixing out to the living room. “You love me,” he says.

“Not really,” Yixing retorts, huddling himself back into his blanket cocoon, and Yifan just grins because there’s no real heat to his voice. He ruffles Yixing’s hair, and Yixing bats at him with his hands, until Yifan manages to kiss him again, and Yixing sighs, relaxing into it.

“We can go get the rest of your things tomorrow,” he suggests afterward, and Yixing nods, smiling happily, and Yifan feels a light, pleasant warmth sink into his chest.


End file.
